


New Flavours

by thejourneymaninn



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Fluff, Ice Cream, Lyriumchristmas, M/M, Pre-Relationship, pre-fenders - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 05:56:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8957110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejourneymaninn/pseuds/thejourneymaninn
Summary: Fenris walks in on Anders preparing dessert for Hawke’s party. A very strange dessert that seems to be…cold. It takes some convincing to get him to try it.
Part of Domestic Shenanigans. As all fics belonging to this series, it can be read as a stand-alone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the #lyriumchristmas campaign on tumblr. Prompt: 'Ice cream'

Light footsteps. Determination in them, yet no hurry. Not the frantic running of a patient in desperate need of help. Anders lifted his head and was, as expected, met with the sight of Fenris approaching the cot he had co-opted for his project.

“Hawke asked me to bring you this,” the elf said in lieu of greeting, all but thrusting a heavy-looking bag in Anders’ face.

Well, that solved the mystery of why an obviously not injured Fenris was paying him a visit - Hawke was probably too busy making preparations for tonight’s party. It was hard to imagine Fenris volunteering to be her delivery boy, though, and Anders suppressed a grin as he allowed himself to indulge in a few fantasies of how the elf might have reacted when she asked him to walk all the way to Darktown to help _him_.

“Thanks, Fenris,” he said with extra cheerfulness, “it’s so sweet of you to come to our aid. Although it would have been even sweeter if you had hurried. This is a time-sensitive process.”

“Next time, feel free to do it yourself. And what exactly,” the elf took a step closer, narrowing his eyes and sniffing as if he was expecting the various bowls to contain some kind of toxin, “is this _process_?”

“This,” Anders declared proudly, spreading his arms to indicate the whole length of the cot, “is for Hawke’s party, and it’s the _only_ good thing about living in the Circle. Ice cream. It’s difficult to produce without magic, so you hardly get it on the outside. It’s a dessert, a delicious one. You can make all kinds of flavours – like different fruits, or even booze.”

Fenris’ expression had settled somewhere between a frown and a snarl. “Food created by magic. Why am I not surprised?”

“It’s not _created_ by magic,” Anders corrected him,” but it can only be made in extreme cold, and _that_ requires magic, at least in most regions. So please spare me another ‘beware the evils of magic’ diatribe, there’s not even a trace of magic _in_ the food. You won’t turn into a frog if you eat it; you’ll still be the pain in the arse you’ve always been.”

“It requires _cold_?” The suspicion was back on Fenris’ face.

“Yes. It’s quite an intricate process, really. You have to mash the ingredients and blend them together really well while gradually cooling them with magic. And then you have to keep it really cold for several hours and remember to stir every now and again so the texture changes – it’s called ice _cream_ for a reason. It gets really soft and silky…It’s absolutely to die for.”

“If you say so.” Fenris didn’t look even the tiniest bit convinced.

“Why don’t you try some and see for yourself?”

“I’ll pass, thank you.” Bloody stubborn elf. Wouldn’t know a good thing if it hit him right in the face…his face… Inspiration struck, and Anders wasted no time to heed its call, dipping his finger into one of the bowls and planting a huge dollop of ice cream on the tip of Fenris’ nose.

He almost burst out laughing when he saw the elf flinch and go cross-eyed. He looked utterly adora…eh, _ridiculous_!

“It is cold!” Fenris informed him helpfully, his voice an equally ado…ridiculous (Maker, what was _wrong_ with him today?) squeal.

“Well, that answers the question of whether you ever listen to _anything_ I say. Now how about you stop being a giant, sword-swinging baby and simply try it?”

There was murder in Fenris’ eyes, but he raised a finger and transferred the offending dessert into his mouth. As he tasted it, his eyes became slightly less murderous.

“Admit it, it’s good.”

Fenris gave a non-committal huff.

Filthy liar, Anders had seen that distracting little tongue dart out to catch every single drop. Yet he assumed his chances of getting the elf to actually _say_ he liked it were about as high as his chances of getting Meredith to sign his manifesto. And yes, there was a remote possibility that smearing icy goo all over Fenris’ face hadn’t improved them.

“Well, _I_ think you won’t find a better dessert anywhere in the world. You’re lucky you got to taste it at all – not many mages know how to make it. And with the few that do locked away in the Circles…” He frowned as a thought occurred to him. “Don’t they have ice cream in Tevinter? With mages being free, I would have thought it would be more common over there.”

“If they do, they do not serve it to slaves,” Fenris said with a snort. “And if you believe any magister would deign to prepare food, you truly are a fool.”

Of course, there it was again, evil, power-hungry mages and…wait a minute! “Did you just imply I might _not_ be a fool?” Anders asked, a smug grin plastered all over his face.

“Do not get your hopes up. It is merely a question of _how_ foolish.” It was only for a brief moment, but Anders thought he detected a hint of amusement in Fenris’ voice. Before he had time to dismiss the notion as being too absurd, the elf continued, “You said few mages knew how to make this…ice cream. How did you learn it, then?”

A few painful heartbeats passed before Anders managed to force out the words.

“Karl taught me.”

Silence closed around them, as thick and opaque as the velvet curtains in the Blooming Rose.

Fenris was the one who broke it. “I…am sorry for your loss.”

The words sounded stiff and formal, yet something in his eyes stopped Anders from bristling. He could almost have sworn the elf…meant it.

“Thank you.”

In the ensuing shuffling of feet and thorough examination of the ground, neither of them seemed to know what to say. At last, Anders cleared his throat.

“Well, I guess I’d better get back to it...I still have quite a few things to prepare.” He indicated the sack Fenris had brought.

“I shall leave you to it.” With that, Fenris turned and walked towards the door. Yet before closing it behind him, he looked back at Anders. “Perhaps you could…make some with apples. If it is not too much trouble.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Anders replied, smiling despite himself.


End file.
